The Sky's The Limit
by The Patriette
Summary: Lois Lane is one of the few people who can give Superman the confidence he needs for this job. Fluffy one-shot based on the new set pictures from "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice."


**Hey there, everybody! Obviously my life is too full for anything other than one-shots these days. This one was inspired by the latest set photos from _Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice_. You know, the ones with Henry/Superman and Amy/Lois. If you haven't seen them yet, you're missing out ;) Anyway, one of my Twitter friends, celticbabe2002, suggested I write a "quick drabble" about the scene after she and I spent a good part of yesterday morning theorizing about it. **

**So here is my fluffy theory about that scene. Enjoy :) **

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><p><em> It's going to be a late night.<em>

Lois Lane held in a half-irritated, half-tired sigh as she sank into her swivel chair with the fourth cup of coffee she'd had since lunch. Perry White was always scolding, saying too much caffeine was bad for you. Lois snorted and took a long but careful sip of the scalding drink. If he thought it was so detrimental to one's health, he ought not put his reporters through a long night where they _needed _something to keep them awake.

She grabbed the edge of her desk and pulled herself closer to the keyboard, and in seconds her fingers flew over the keys. Her large blue eyes darted back and forth from a legal pad full of notes to the computer screen, while her keen mind went back to the glitzy reception last night at Lex Luthor's postmodern home.

She and Clark had been there. Not as guests, but as journalists. It had been the biggest bash Luthor had held at his new mansion since he finished building it—hardly the kind of story a Pulitzer-winning investigative journalist enjoyed covering.

But okay . . . so she'd had an ulterior motive. Luthor, with his pinched face and dark, curly toupé and a false charm that always rubbed Lois the wrong way, had been badmouthing Superman. And everyone at that party had badmouthed him.

Everyone but Bruce Wayne, that is, and that tall, elegant woman . . . Lois glanced back at her notes with a perturbed frown. _Diana Prince. That was her name. _

But they were the only two who hadn't spewed vitriol against Superman. The other guests had been cruel.

It would've been bad enough if Lois had been by herself. But Clark had been right beside her with his camera, taking his own notes, maintaining a stoic, almost uninterested expression on his strong, handsome face the entire time. Lois' chest had burned in indignation, pity, sympathy—and a raw, wrathful desire to slap some of those ingrates around and dare them to say those horrible things in Superman's face. Of course they had the courage—"arrogance" would be more accurate—to say them when they thought he was nowhere nearby. They might not be so mouthy if they knew he was standing right there.

Without her realizing it, Lois' face hardened and her small mouth pressed into a thin, angry line. Her fingers began hammering on the keyboard until even Jenny, sitting in the cubicle across from hers, glanced up in surprise.

"Lois? Everything okay?"

Lois glanced up, startled from her reverie—but before she could reply she noticed Perry hurrying up to her. She sat up a little straighter and pushed her chair back.

"What's up, Perry?"

Perry jabbed his thumb at the glass doors of the bullpen. "You've got somebody in the hallway looking for you."

Lois frowned. She walked quickly down the bullpen aisle and pushed open the door, wondering who'd be looking for her at this hour.

She understood as soon as she entered the hallway. Standing at one of the huge windows overlooking Metropolis was none other than a certain tall, muscular alien in a steel-blue suit and red cape. Thanks to the late hour, he was the only one in the hallway, and the only sound was that of the escalator a few yards away.

Clark turned as soon as the door creaked open and a small, somewhat weary smile crossed his face. "Hey there."

Lois let the door shut and closed the distance between them. "What are you doing here? If anyone recognizes you—"

"Can you give me ten minutes?"

"Ten min—Clark, I've got a deadline for the Luthor story tonight!"

"Seven minutes?"

She hesitated. Clark cocked his head to one side and gave her a pleading, puppy-like look. In spite of herself Lois smiled; she ducked her head and set her hands on her hips.

"You are impossible, you know that?"

"Well," he said, lowering his voice, "would it help if I told you that Perry already told me it would be fine for you to come with me? For ten minutes," he added quickly. "But I'll let you shave off three if you really need to."

She laughed. "No, no . . . I can give you ten minutes."

A look of undisguised relief swept over Clark's face. He reached for her hand, and with a nod of his head in the direction of the escalators, led her downstairs.

Lois was a little surprised, a little hesitant; Clark had never come for her at the _Planet _in his suit. The front lobby was almost empty at this time of evening. When they stepped outside, she looked up at him questioningly.

"All right. Where do we go without everyone staring at us?"

Clark smiled. "The sky's the limit."

"Oh no, wait—"

But before she could make a coherent protest, he'd bent and scooped her up in his arms. Lois gasped, but she'd done this enough times to know that she'd better hold on tight. Besides, takeoff was really the only hair-raising part about it. The rest of the flight would be like a dream.

The wind tore through her coppery hair as Clark shot up into the night sky; her heart jumped into her throat and she pressed her head against his shoulder, not daring to look down. Only when he stopped meters above the highest skyscraper in Metropolis did she lift her head. The city was a mass of twinkling lights. Even the lights from the construction crews in the center of town, where General Zod's spaceship had wreaked the most destruction, added to its beauty.

"You're working on the Luthor gala, then?" Clark said abruptly.

Lois looked up at him, a little startled by the question. "Yes . . ."

"I hope you don't leave anything out."

He didn't look at her; his deep blue eyes were fixed, stern, on Metropolis. Lois loosened her

hold around his neck and leaned back so she could look him full in the face.

"I couldn't leave it out even if I wanted to. Journalistic integrity and all that. Besides," she added, trying to smile, "they weren't _all _Superman-haters. Kind of nice to see Bruce Wayne changing his usual negative opinion. And that Miss Prince woman has always seemed to like you."

"Two people out of dozens."

Lois raised her eyebrows. "I really hope you don't care about the opinion of a few dozen high-and-mighty socialites."

Clark shook his head slightly and tore his gaze from the city to her. Once upon a time, Lois could hardly meet his eyes steadily; one long look from him would send her heart racing and she'd have to look away before he caught her blushing. Now she could look him in the eye, and in that moment she realized that this was why he'd brought her out here in the first place. He wanted to talk about this, and he needed her to listen.

"It wouldn't be so bad," he said, through gritted teeth, "if they just didn't like me. I could take that. But now . . . now, Lois, they _blame_ me. I'm a murderer, according to them."

"They're idiots," Lois hissed.

"Are they?"

Lois' eyes widened. "Come on, Clark. You're not a mur—."

"Five thousand people are dead because of that battle, Lois. If I had just been satisfied with knowing I wasn't from this world and then moved on with my life—if I hadn't tried to go looking for my people—they never would've figured out I was here on Earth. Zod would have no reason to come here. Not only that, but if I hadn't spent so much time in an all-out fight with the World Engine, I could've figured out some stealthier way of finding its one vulnerability."

"Well that's ridiculous . . . "

"All right, then what the scout ship?" Clark snapped. "If I hadn't been so reckless, I could've crashed it into the bay instead of letting it free-fall into all those buildings. If I'd been thinking clearly I could've even fought well enough to keep Zod well away from Metropolis—but instead I stayed on the defensive and he slammed me through the whole city. Don't try to argue with me, Lois—I've spent too many nights thinking about it and there's no way to excuse myself."

Lois clamped her mouth shut. He meant it. He really meant it when he told her not to argue with him. He wasn't looking for sympathy; he just wanted to get it off his chest, let her know he'd come to terms with condemning himself.

_Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut. I've argued with him for the past two years about this, so if this is really what he wants, I'll let him have it. _

_ I just hope he realizes I'm not really putting up with it. He can delude himself and take the blame for now but I sure as heck won't let him do it forever._

Clark sighed and looked over the city again. His face softened ever-so-slightly. "You live in a beautiful city, Lois Lane. I don't ever want to see it destroyed again."

She cocked her head to the side and rubbed his shoulder. "Well, I for one have absolutely no doubt that you'll do everything in your power to prevent any such threat. Now take me home, Farm Boy. Your ten minutes are up."

Clark smirked and slowly began his descent. They said nothing until his foot hit the ground. Lois tightened her grip and burrowed herself against him, suddenly wishing she didn't have to go

back to the desk, to the antagonistic quotes from Luthor's guests, to a long night without seeing Clark's dorky self in the cubicle next to hers. He pressed his head against hers for just a moment before setting her gently on her feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Leave some space in the article's format for my photos, all right?"

Lois smiled. "Got it."

Then, without thinking twice about it, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. He looked startled—they _were _on a public street, after all—but he didn't try to draw back.

"You can tell yourself you failed if you like," she said, trying to make her voice as firm as she possibly could. "You can believe those lies those people said about you if that's what you want. All I ask is that you wake up tomorrow morning and _start over_. You don't have to let it define the rest of your life. You can take what happened two years ago and you can learn from it and make something fantastic out of it. Do you understand me?"

Clark smiled quietly—a good sign. There was no skepticism or anger with himself in his eyes now. He rubbed her back, and then without seeming to care whether anyone saw him or not, he leaned down and kissed her.

"I understand you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "I promise."

With that he unwound his arms from around her, backed up, and with a light push of his foot against the sidewalk rose up in the air. Lois craned her neck back and watched him as his cape billowed in the cool night breeze.

"Until next time, Miss Lane," he said in that formal voice that he used whenever Superman said anything within public hearing. She smiled, lifted her hand in a wave.

Then he turned his face to the sky and was gone.


End file.
